


Adversus Solem Ne Loquitor

by infamousplot



Series: is it your place, or mine? [1]
Category: FSN, Fate/kaleid liner PRISMA ILLYA, Fate/stay night, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, fate series, sort of i mean black gil is in it that's about it
Genre: Post-Series, Vore, it's not rape in the sexual sense but in the gorny eating you alive against your will sense, non-con elements, semi-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 09:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2502290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infamousplot/pseuds/infamousplot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were sent to do recon, to check in on strange activity, but things went wrong. Really wrong. He was bleeding, dying, and Gilgamesh... Gilgamesh was fucking eating him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adversus Solem Ne Loquitor

**Author's Note:**

> Like all of my Fate fics, takes place in fearthesillypeople's post-UBW alternate timeline AU, or at least some spin off variant of that. 
> 
> The concept of Black Gilgamesh comes from my buddy Mu, eternalswordrain on Tumblr, who was inspired by Gil is Kaleid Liner. I find him really interesting and I love RPing with Mu and her muses :')
> 
> Contains gore and cannibalism, so enter at your own risk.

Cu fell to the ground, gasping for air. His hand was pressed firmly to his stomach, warm and wet as he tried to hold in his guts. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been torn up this badly. Weakly, he crawled across the ground, trying to ignore the streak of red smearing through the grass as he moved.

Something bubbled and hissed from a few yards away, and Cu looked up, dazed, barely able to see the mound of black in the dark. Gilgamesh, a pile of Grail mud, oozing dangerously as he tried pulling himself back together. Cu watched him, struggling to breathe.

They'd been out doing recon. Because apparently, they were never done with that shit. Some fucking powerful Servants had surfaced, still not from his war, and things... hadn't gone as well as they would have liked. Assassin, from the Fourth War, apparently. Had over a hundred bodies.

They hadn't been expecting it to be so powerful. Dozens and dozens of bodies, shadows launching at them from the dark. It had torn them apart, almost, and Cu wasn't even sure if this could be considered a victory. It had retreated, suddenly, just plain old gone, leaving them to their injuries.

Slowly, Cu sat himself up, wincing. He ran his hand along the slice in his stomach, staring at the entrails that kept trying to fall out. He hadn't seen those since the first time he'd died. Gagging, he tried to shove them back in, murmuring words and tracing a rune over the bloody gash. It didn't do much, the wound was too big, but the spell would help keep his innards from spilling to the ground.

"Gil," he rasped, eyes straining to see the man. Not really a man right now though. Just mud, bubbling in the dirt. He'd used a lot of mana in this fight, slipped out of his shell into something more powerful. Now, though, Cu wasn't sure if he'd be able to change back. "Gilgamesh, are you alright?" Gods, he was gonna give Kirei a piece of his mind when they got back. Sending them out after some fucking assassin with a million faces. Did he  _want_ them to get slaughtered?

Gilgamesh burbled. The mud shifted, a little, rising clumsily into a slightly more humanoid shape. Regardless of the dark, Cu still couldn't make out any features on that black face- save for that one bloody eye, sunken into a patch of pale skin that stood stark against the ooze. Cu rose to his knees, crawling over carefully. "How you holding up?" he asked. It was hard to move, he felt like his body was about to split at the seams, dumping his contents onto the forest floor. The red eye blinked, watching him weakly through the black.

"They're like wasps," he said, his voice distorted, eerily childlike as he spoke. "A sting from one is ignorable, but when they swarm, escape is impossible." Cu found himself nodding.

"Yeah, well, I think they're gone now..." he tried to stand up, but his gut threatened to tear more, screeching with pain. It didn't look like he was going anywhere any time soon. Admitting defeat, he kneeled there, letting his heart rate return to normal.

Usually the forest came to life at night, teeming with nocturnal creatures that waited for the human world to quiet down before they showed themselves. Right now though, it was silent, save for their own shallow breathing. There wasn't even a breeze. Part of him worried that Assassin might still be lurking, but he could smell anything. They were completely alone. For some reason, that didn't bring him as much comfort as it should have.

"Lancer... You're bleeding." Gilgamesh said, in a tone that betrayed no emotion, only acknowledgement. Cu looked down at the hole in his armor, the red still leaking down his arms and from his stomach. He shrugged, weakly, wishing he could just collapse and sleep for the next few months.

"Yeah. Hassan or whatever cut me up pretty bad-" his sentence trailed off as one of Gil's antennae touched his face, tracing down and resting itself on his shoulder. He watched, confused, as the muddy creature crawled closer, stopping right before his knees. It peered up at him, smiling strangely through the slime.

"You're losing a lot of mana." he giggled a little, strange and warped, and Cu felt himself tensing. He reached to his shoulder, trying to push the antennae away, only to find that it had looped itself around the back of his neck, joined by the other one on his other shoulder. "It's a waste, don't you think?"

"Can't be helped." Cu muttered. He didn't have enough juice to speed up the healing with magic, but most of the cuts would probably be gone by tomorrow. Gilgamesh giggled again, an off kilter kind of laugh, one that made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He smiled, and inside his mouth he could see nothing, only more darkness.

"All that energy just spilling into the ground. Pathetic, Lancer. If you can't take care of your own life, who is to stop someone else from taking it?" Gil grinned, the smile splitting his face in two. The antennae round his neck suddenly felt much heavier. A chill crept up his spine, and again, he tried to move them, eyes narrowing a little.

"What's it to you? I'm not the one who's been reduced to a pile of slop." he smirked, grabbing the antennae by their stems.

They tensed, suddenly, and the next thing he knew they were coiled tightly around his hands, dissolving into thick globs of mud and pulling his arms down to his sides. His muscles tugged and he winced, trying to free them, but they hardly budged. Even in this state, Gil was still far stronger than him.

"You dare to speak that way to me dog?" Gil cackled, and Cu felt the thick ooze starting to creep up his legs, slowly pulling itself over him. His heart thudded, nervous and confused, eyes still narrowed into angry slits. "Even as dirt, I'm still above a worm like you~" he grinned, giggling madly. Then, Cu was on the ground.

He was shocked by how fast Gil could move in this form. His head hit the ground hard, thumping stars into his eyes, and he winced. He tried to lift a fist to punch the little shit, but his hands were still swallowed up by mud... as were most of his legs. He blinked, more angry than anything, and very, very confused.

"The hell are you doing?" he snarled, struggling to sit up. His stomach split, ignoring his runes, and he hissed out in pain, fresh warm blood seeping out. The mud around him rippled, weighty enough to keep his legs pinned against the ground. Gilgamesh did not look at him. The single red iris was small, starving. He leaned down, pressing his face into the wound.

It burned. Toxic awful mud seeped into the cavity of his stomach, burning through his blood, splashing in acids and settling there heavily. He screeched, surprised and in pain, trying to wrestle free. He thrashed, bucking, but his legs and arms were restrained.

His stomach crawled, painful and disgusting, as whatever the hell was in that mud mouth began slurping at his guts, drawing the blood away, trying to clean out his innards.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Cu screamed, trying to draw runes on his palms from within the mud, make a fire or  _something_ , to shove the psycho away. The mud rippled as Gilgamesh giggled, the eye peering up at him. Red mixed with black as he lifted his head, oozing up farther. The sludge dripped down into the gash, filling it up. He shuddered, glowering.

"You taste delicious, Lancer." he laughed, in a voice that did and didn't sound like Gilgamesh. "I've never eaten a Heroic Spirit before. A being of pure mana..." his grin was not human. Then again, Gilgamesh never was.

"You've got to be kidding me." Cu growled, bucking fiercely, but again to no avail. Gil was heavy and gross and the further he climbed the harder it was to move. "Get off of me," he snarled. "Gil, this ain't funny! Knock it off!"

Except it wasn't a joke. It wasn't a joke and he knew it, even before that awful grin grew impossibly wider, even before the mud inside his stomach began to boil and expand. Gilgamesh cackled, loud and harsh and entirely inhuman, as he forced Cu flat against the ground.

"Gil!" Cu screamed again, wincing at the mud bubbled, much too hot. It oozed beneath him and through him, engulfing him slowly. "Gilgamesh, stop!"

"Mmm yes, continue your struggling. It makes the blood run faster." the mud giggled, and Cu let out a cry of pain as his legs began to crunch, compressed by the cocoon of sludge.

"St-stop it," he snarled, wincing as it ground them around, bones crushing uselessly inside. It burned, like acid, slowly dissolving the energy that made him up. " _Stop!_ Gilgamesh, holy  _fuck-_ " he screamed, a mangled cry rising up his throat. His face felt hot, eyes starting to sting- it hurt like hell, like he was being crushed into a little ball and picked apart. The mass of black kept crawling up him, draining his fluids, trying to turn him to mush. " _Stop it! Gil, come on, this isn't funny you asshole!"_ He was screaming himself hoarse but it wasn't making a difference.

Gil writhed. He cackled, mad, painfully loud, bursting right through his head and battering his brain.

"Mmm maybe not to you, but I find it  _hilarious_ ," he giggled darkly, his voice dripping down on him, burning holes in his chest. "Go on, keep squirming dog. Keep believing you can escape. I find it incredibly entertaining." he sneered, crawling up farther. Eating him alive. 

"Why are you doing this?" he gasped, biting down a his bones creaked, threatening to snap. The mud squeezed harder, trying to crush him.

"I need mana to rebuild my shell," Gil purred, the mud staining his silky voice as his face spread across his chest, searing through his armor and burning his skin. Cu's throat hurt too much to scream, but he still grunted, still winced and tried to fight against the pain. Gil screeched with laughter, the mud boiling all around him. "Mmhmmhmm, I suppose it was a good thing Kotomine picked you up again after all." he grinned mouthlessly, his words shuddering through Cu's flesh. "If anything, at least you make a good battery."

Cu tried to swear, tried to summon his spear or bite him or punch him or  _something_ but he couldn't. Gae Bolg wouldn't come. He couldn't feel it. Just fear. It was dark and it was hot and it was terrifying. Get away. Stop. Please. He wasn't a fucking battery, he wasn't food or a toy or whatever the hell Gilgamesh wanted to use him for. He was worth more than this- this shitstain didn't get to decide his value!

He could hear Gil under there, the real Gil, not the tainted one, but he was laughing. Just like the mud. Just like the fucking bastard he was. Doing nothing to stop himself. Nothing to help.

And why should he? What reason did Gilgamesh have to stop? The thought struck hard and heavy, amidst his throes of pain. Cu held no meaning to him. They weren't friends. They could hardly be considered teammates. They didn't even share their space by choice. There was no connection between them, no bond- just a sad, pathetic, lonely dog imprinting onto the first thing he could find that wasn't Kirei. Except the trade wasn't worth it. Because either way, he was worthless in their eyes. He didn't mean a damn thing to Gilgamesh. No matter what he said, or did, he would still be nothing.

Lancer choked out a few words, tried to, but he couldn't breathe. Sludge filled his mouth and trickled down his throat, writhing in his stomach with the rest, pushing outward, trying to rip free. Hot black tentacles coiled around him, pulling him in, swallowing hard. He gagged, angry tears streaming down his face.

_Get off,_ he tried to scream.  _Get the hell away from me!_ He gasped, weak, disgusting bitter slime crawling inside of him, burning holes in his skin. He could feel his armor ebbing away, runes being unwritten, erased to expose his skin. Grail mud oozed, picking apart his being, mana particle by mana particle. It hurt. It  _hurt it hurt it HURT._ He wanted to scream, needed to, but nothing would come out. Gae Bolg had abandoned him. Gilgamesh had abandoned him.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't  _breathe._ Black ooze burned through his lungs and filled them, drowning him in Grail mud. He could feel it gnawing at his ribs, breaking apart his spine, converting flesh and blood into energy, prana. His own personal leyline. He wanted to scream, rip him apart, but he couldn't move. He couldn't do anything. Pathetic and overpowered, crunched and crushed, smaller and smaller, until he really was nothing. That was what would happen, and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it.

He would die. He would die because of Gilgamesh, because of this shitty person he'd thought he could trust. How pathetic. How stupid.

No one was going to care. Kirei might regret losing a pawn, but in the end, he was replaceable. His boss might wonder where he went, but again. Replaceable. No one in this entire fucking world gave two shits about whether he existed or not... and maybe it was better this way. Maybe it didn't matter, if he was gone.

Maybe this was the better option.

Live and suffer. Be ignored, be taken advantage of,  _imprisoned_ , the butt of everyone's jokes. There was no one to live for, nothing to aim for but freedom- and then what? He'd never have enough money to get to Ulster, and even if he did, what would he do there? He'd still be alone.

Either way, he was going to be alone. Either way, no one would care. This way, at least, he wouldn't have to feel it.

_But I don't want to die._

What a stupid thought. Because really, when had anyone ever given a damn what he wanted?

He would have closed his eyes, but it was already dark.


End file.
